Page 128 of Against The Tide

Still, fresh tears form, collecting on the brim of my lashes before they roll hot and heavy down my cheeks, stinging every pore they seep into, scorching every inch of skin they sluice down.

“I just needed space. I needed…I…” Bite-cracked lips purse.

“It’s okay,” I tell him with the numbness in my chest prickling through me. “I know. It should’ve been me, not him.”

I can’t even bring myself to say his name. The mere thought of it lodges in my throat like the blood gargling and spitting from his mouth.

So much blood.

“No. No, that’s not what I meant.” Rowan takes my hand and with a deep breath tells me, “I needed space to save him. I had to save him, Mermaid.”

“It should’ve been me.”

“Doc clearly disagreed. I disagree.” He cracks a small grin that doesn’t quite reflect in his eyes as usual. When he opens his mouth to speak again, Callie walks into the waiting room with a small cardboard tray of coffees.

One of the surgeons walks in behind her in his scrubs. The squeak of his rubber shoes makes my insides twist.

Whatever he was about to say is forgotten as Rowan stands to his feet, reaching for Callie. He pulls her into him, hugging her like you would a comfort blanket when the surgeon looks around the room. I keep looking for any sign of Rhett’s blood on his scrubs, but there isn’t a single drop. Not even on his shoes.

I don’t understand. How can there be no blood on him when I am covered in it? My clothes. My skin. My hair. It’s under my nails and dried into my sense of smell. I swear I can taste it too when I inhale deeply. The metallic tang curdles through my insides.

“Good news.” The older man smiles, pulling his scrub cap off. “We were able to take the least intrusive route. We’ve located and retrieved the bullet, and we’re working on repairing the lung.”

“There. You see?” Jo pats my lap. “I told you all that he would be fine. He has a lot to stick around for.”

Although the surgeon doesn’t outright contradict her statement, he tells us all with that cordial tone doctors like to use when it could go one of two ways, “The next twenty-four hours are vital.”

“Doc will push through.” Jo nudges me.

“Dr. Reynolds has done swell so far. He’s in good health, and God be willing, we should be done soon enough. We are currently giving him a transfusion to help with blood loss, and as procedure we like to encourage family to donate, especially with the rare blood types.”

“Of course.” Callie nods. “Thank you for filling us in.”

“How much longer do you think the surgery will run?” Rowan finally speaks. I’m glad one of us has the composure to do so.

“Depends on how quickly we can stop the bleed.”

“And he’s going to be all right? No permanent damage?”

Taking a step back, the surgeon shrugs noncommittedly. “It’s impossible to be sure how the patient will recoup with any trauma, but like I said, Dr. Reynolds is in good health. Everything is in perfect working order, so it looks good for him.”

Before he can be asked any more questions, the surgeon excuses himself, leaving us to wait some more. I’m slipping back into my trance when Callie offers me a cup of coffee.

“Nora is on her way, and until she gets here, Gretch has the girls. It’ll help keep them from asking questions if they’re distracted.” I nod, and she hugs me to her side. “You might not want to talk about it right now, but it’s important that you know this isn’t your fault.”

“Why do you all keep telling me that? Kayla wanted to hurt me? It was me she wanted to kill, not⁠—”

“And Rhett saved you, so…” At her words my numb heart chooses this moment to start feeling again. Pain unlike anything I’ve ever felt suffocates me. “She got what she deserved.”

“Because she’s dead?” I scoff. “That’s not what she deserved. He could’ve died. He could still⁠—”

“But he won’t,” Rowan states firmly from the doorway.

“What about next time? Kayla’s out of the picture but…but Carl and…and…”

“Avery.” Callie blows out a breath, looking up at Rowan, and just as he’s about to say something, one of the FBI agents walks in the room.

I’ve never felt so angry as I do right now. Months, in fact years, of pent-up frustrations, disappointments, and swallowing down my feelings for the sake of keeping the surface of the water calm while I’m drowning underneath, all boil down to this moment where after spending the last however many months thinking life couldn’t get much worse than waiting and waiting for the day I could put my past behind me, it’s not just worse, it’s come to a screeching halt around me.